June 6, 2004
D-Day Plus 60
In anticipation of a big day we were up early, before eight making coffee and tea. While things were brewing inside I did an early morning walk around and unlocked all the basement doors in preparation for Canadian immigration.
Back inside Onie had smoked brisket and eggs ready for breakfast.
I had missed my brother David last evening but got him this morning as he was getting ready for church.
We pulled out at 10am and headed for Canada after watching a little news.
Lots of verbal flowers were offered for Reagan, even from his enemies, shame, shame, shame on these fakers. Their only motive is to gain political ground by seeming magnanimous. They are still snakes who would destroy our way of life, given the chance. They fought him tooth and toenail while he was alive.
I hope Onie will keep this kind of scum from my going away party. They are throwing bouquets way too late. Some people get no flowers at all while they are alive, not one Daisy. Men died on Omaha Beach, sixty years ago today, who never got one flower while they were alive. Don’t let that happen to your loved ones. Even 2 year olds love to get flowers. (This has not been a message from your local FTD man.)
The big moment was upon us. We were leaving the states for a while. The bridge over the river between Port Huron, Michigan and Port Edward, Ontario is high wide and carries a cost, a toll bridge, $4.50.
I didn’t know if this wss a busy port of entry for Canada but business for the officers was slack today. Onie had our passports ready when it was our turn at the entry plaza. The officer appeared to be thirty something and must have still been learning to smile as it seemed a bit of a strain for him. He took our passports, looked at his computer screen, asked about our destination, how long we would be there, weapons, alcohol, gifts for friends in Canada and then sent us on our way. We were out of there in less than five minutes.
Now we were on the metric system. All signs had to be converted so we would know how far a city was, how fast we were going and how much something cost but we had done it before so it was almost automatic.
Ontario knows how to build good roads and it was quite a relief to be away from the horrible surfaces in Michigan. We did have one bad stretch about seventeen kilometers long, about ten miles.
As we drove away from the lakes and river the road began a gentle incline. Ontario has many clear creeks with rock beds. New green grass carpeted the ground around the creeks and under the sheltering trees with their new growth. Where the farm land met the creeks neat fences separated the two providing pastures for the cattle or enclosures for the plowed ground. New crops were springing from the ground and the cattle were busy with the new grass.
As pretty as all of it was we were still not connected with the landscape. Walking really gives one a feel for the land. Even riding a horse one knows and feels the land and its plants and animals. A motorcycle is a step a way from those but one still is in the open and absorbs the feel and smells of the countryside.
Modern roads steal much of the scenic value and feel of the land. Steep grades and gulches are gone, removed to make the road more tolerable for our vehicles and to let us hurry even faster to places we think we want to go. Often in our rush to be some place new we miss a lot right outside our window. Our recent ancestors traveled twenty or thirty miles a day. They saw and felt what was around them. Closed up in our traveling machines we are cut off from the elements, the sounds, the smells and the delights of the outdoors. We miss the fact that the country we are traveling through is one of deep gullies and steep hills, that the ground in the forest is rock strewn, that wild flowers have an aroma, that the air is cool, or hot, moist or dry but we still call this progress.
Traveling along at 100 kmh I tried to notice these things and imagine walking the hills, smelling the scents and feeling the head winds we were facing most of the time but when the road turned the winds became side winds and more attention had to paid to driving our 26,000 pound cocoon so then I missed some things.
For whatever reason Canadians don’t seem to be traveling far these days. From the time we crossed over the bridge until we made our first rest stop two hundred miles into Ontario I noticed only two plates from out of the province, one on a SUV from Texas and one on a coach from Florida, none from other provinces. In the rest area I got out to stretch my legs and do a walk around. While I was occupied with this another coach pulled in. Nothing was really unusual about that except that it was a Tradewinds LTC, a National coach very similar to ours, and the folks inside were from Houston. The driver’s mom and dad had named him Russ. He and I visited a little about the coaches and then got around to talking about our destinations. He was on his way to Nova Scotia. Once again we were reminded of how small modern travel has made our world. I invited him to stop by and visit us at Belle Baie if he had time. Back in the coach I related my little experience to Onie before sitting back behind the wheel and getting under way.
Getting through Toronto proved to be a real bear of a time. Traffic was heavy and the city seemed to go on and on. Before we were out of the traffic I was completely tired out and had a pounding headache. Even the worst situations have bright spots if we look for them. The bright spot about Toronto was that the highway went pretty much straight through and no highway changes were necessary. In addition the through traffic was on a freeway inside a freeway. We were in four lanes of traffic moving mostly at sixty miles an hour. Entrance and exit ramps were spaced two or three miles apart and traffic coming on was entering at the same speed from another four lane freeway that abutted ours to the right. That freeway was for local traffic and had the frequent exits and entries we are used to in the States.
Onie had noted that a Flying J was down the road a little way in Napanee and I noted that we could use some fuel. With the exhaust brake engaged and the turbo whining we drove into get fuel and check the tires. It was 4:30. Diesel was .64 per liter which figured out to be about 1.72 per gallon after taking into consideration the exchange rate and the fact that an Imperial gallon, four litres, is 1.1 U.S. gallons. We thought that as a very acceptable price. We had been averaging a little over 10mpg on the trip and at that rate we wouldn’t have to buy fuel again until we were in New Brunswick.
After discussing how tired I was we decided to spend the night at the Flying J. We parked in the space set aside for coaches and campers. On one side of us was another motor home and on the other side a fifth wheel. They too were in for the night.
While Onie prepared dinner I made notes about the days events.
We watched some news while we ate and then played some dominoes before going off to an early bed.
June 7, 2004
ON TO MONTREAL
We woke much refreshed to an early morning rain.
I got up to make the coffee and tea and peck while Onie was still abed. The TV played with news of the Reagan legacy and funeral.
While the tires were cool we pulled around to check the air. We do this in the truck islands where they have more pressure in their hoses than at the RV island. While I was doing that a trucker, in a brand new rig, struck up a conversation with me. He told me truckers don’t stop in the province of Quebec unless they are making a delivery there. He was from New Brunswick. They even like to drive straight through if they can. They don’t want to spend the night there. He told me that Quebec has a “secret tax”. It is added to the cost of everything but is not included on the posted price. He really didn’t like that. To me it sounded a whole lot like a sales tax.
We pulled out at 10am, back into heavy traffic. When we had matched the speed of folks in the right hand lane we settled in for the drive. The flat countryside passed without incident and we rode along listening to Williams and Clark, bluegrass.
Nearing Montreal the traffic became very heavy. We were changing highways and trying to avoid going into Montreal proper but a missed turn took us there. The freeway ended and dumped us off into a mess. Not knowing where we were or how to really get out of our unknown location we bumbled around on some narrow streets under construction, driving through tunnels under the St. Lawrence River twice, almost going into the port area and seeing some of the less pretty parts of Montreal. Finally we saw a sign for the 20 and followed a circuitous route to the entry ramp and then headed east on 20. How long we wandered I can’t really say but it seemed like an eternity. The headache from the previous day managed to creep back in. Two headaches in two days and I hadn’t had two headaches in the last two years.
The rocks that were exposed when the road was made were different from those in Ontario, it looked like shale. With the St Lawrence to our right we headed on toward Nova Scotia with Onie at the wheel. On our left a CN freight train ran parallel to us. I thought about my friend John who helps keep the trains rolling stateside. Traveling in the navigator’s seat is really nice and after a short spell at it I reclined my seat and dozed.
Refreshed I took over driving responsibilities again. Beautiful hills were back, we had crossed the St Lawrence and it was now on our left. Here the river is so wide it is a bay. Neat farms lay between us and the waters side. In the fields hay was being cut, raked and baled.
We drove past the fork in the road that would take us to Nova Scotia and headed into the beautiful little town of Riviere du Loup. A roadside sign for McDonalds told us where to find the Wal-Mart. When the engine died we had logged 425 miles.
Credit card in hand we went in to do a little shopping. We have never seen a Super Wal-Mart in Canada but the stores do have limited food stuffs. We needed eggs and knew we could find them here. We browsed through some of the sale items and found that we were truly in French territory. The help no habla English, Merci. The ladies did their best to be helpful and were the most pleasant French folk we ran into in Quebec, ever. With our newly acquired treasures, including a new DVD movie, we went back to the coach for dinner and the movie.
A little rain washed the new building that housed the Wal-Mart, while we slept.
June 8, 2004
WOULD YOU BELIEVE?
Early morning rain fell through the cold air when we woke. With the furnaces churning out some heat I got the coffee and tea going. Breakfast was a quick affair and then we were ready for the road.
Quebec undoubtedly holds the title for the worst roads in Canada that we have been on. This of course would include the Yukon. The next time someone asks about the Al-Can Highway and if the road is good I will tell them to drive the Quebec roads first and the Yukon will be a piece of cake. The coach rocked and rolled and we just wanted to get on to New Brunswick. Onie said she felt like she was riding a bucking bull while she was driving.
The rock that lines the road where it goes through a hill has turned to slate. Even the people of Quebec can’t change the fact that spring is here for them. New green is everywhere we look. Fresh new green crops adorn the plowed fields and by concentrating on them and the other signs of spring we managed to endure until we were delivered into New Brunswick.
We stopped at the visitor’s center to stretch, pickup information and check our email. The center had public access computers so we put them to use.
Back on the road again we were enjoying a smooth quiet ride. When we did hit construction areas the roads and or detours were better than the best road in Quebec. I told Onie as far as I was concerned we had driven in Quebec for the last time. The next time we come up it will be through Maine. We will certainly go back through Maine this time.
St Lawrence Bay was now on our left. Beautiful farms, with attractive homes and out buildings, laid out in neat square blocks of land ran down to the bay. The towns we passed were just as neat and clean. Litter was almost non existent, everything looked better with smooth roads.
Fredericton lies just inside New Brunswick and is a pretty good sized town. We motored on by and headed to Moncton.
It had been eight hundred miles since we last bought fuel so we stopped and put in 80 gallons.
Would you believe Wal-Mart beckoned from just across the street? Suddenly we remembered we needed to do some shopping so we pulled into their parking lot as soon as we finished fueling.
More help was given to the local economy and then we returned to the coach for dinner and Who Wants to be a Millionaire. We followed the game show with a movie and bed.
June 9, 2004
AT LAST
We were really getting close to our summer home now and were getting anxious to be there. We got up early but still didn’t get on the road till twenty till nine.
We passed over the good roads swiftly now, watching the passing scenery from the comfort and quiet of the coach.
Welcome Center, Nova Scotia
At 10:00 we pulled into the Nova Scotia welcome center. As the Cummins fell silent I noticed the trip odometer read 2500 miles. Compared to Alaska we were just a hop, skip and a jump from the house. Inside the ladies reminded us to change our watches. We were losing another hour. We would spend the next three months on Atlantic Time. Again we used the public access computers to check our email. Onie picked up maps, brochures and books on things to see and do in our summer province.
After a while we were back on track and nearing our goal. Onie remarked she felt like she was going home. Our friends and neighbors for the summer are closer now. Onie looked happier. The road running toward Halifax was good and the Marlin wais whisking us passed the new green and the various darker shades that checker the countryside.
The navigator decided we should take Hwy. 14 to take a few miles off the trip. The wheels had made very few revolutions when the road surface turned to trash. Just how many miles we saved I don’t know and we did get up close to some pretty scenery and neat homes but we were certainly back in the rock and roll business even though we were coasting along at 35 or 40.
One oh one finally came into view and we were back on good roadway. Now we were coasting on homeward through the Annapolis valley. We had left multistory buildings far behind and the tallest structure to be seen were the churches and their steeples.
The Weymouth exit came into view. The Jake break slowed us as we left the 102 and took the bayside road, just minutes away from Belle Baie. We would wait a little longer before parking. In St Bernard a class B motor home sat smoldering on the roadside. The narrow road was blocked with emergency equipment. Cars were being directed to turn around but seeing how the road was so narrow and we were so big the fireman directing traffic had us pull over to the side of the road and wait until the road was cleared. In a few minutes the road was cleared and we went on our way past Grosse Coques and Chef Christophe. Two or three more turns of the road and Belle Baie Park hove into sight.
We stopped to check in and say hello to Rita, Alvina and Eddie. After a little visit we drove to our site. From where we would be sitting we would have a view of the bay from our dining table. We quickly checked our TV reception. It was good. The site would be just fine.
I got busy removing the bugs from the top half of the front of the coach so we could put our new sun screens on.
Yvonne was at her camper and saw us come in. She came running across the grass and gave us big hugs. She was just a part of the Yvonne we had left two years ago. She and Steven have been on Atkins since last November and she has lost lots of weight. She said Steven has lost even more.
About that time I discovered that all the rough roads had taken a toll on the metal holding our hydraulic pump. The bracket, about 3/8ths inch thick, had suffered metal fatigue and broken. The pump was hanging askew in its bay. A quick inspection revealed that luckily the pump hadn’t been damaged. Some welding and perhaps some additional rigging would repair the damage and prevent a similar occurrence from happening in the future.
Cleaning the coach was a work in progress and today it progressed a little more. In the process I found to new dings in the paint on the front. Tomorrow they will be repaired.
While I was working on the coach Steven came by to visit. Life is slow here; people take time to stop what they are doing and pay attention when neighbors drop by. Folks are friendly and our activities are frequently slowed by visitations. That is nice. Steven left to get things ready for later and I returned to cleaning the front of the coach. With the bugs gone from the top part of the front I applied some 303. Then it was time to put the sun screens up. As if by magic Steven reappeared and helped me get them on. That was enough work for our arrival day so I put up the cleaning things and got cleaned up for our evening.
The second thing out of Yvonne’s mouth after greeting us was to invite us to dinner at there camper. Now we made the short walk there where both Steven and Yvonne greeted us so warmly we truly did feel like we had come home. Al Melanson, who we remembered from two years ago, was there also. His wife, June, was on her way back from Halifax so he ate dinner with us. While Yvonne was putting the finishing touches on the meal Yvette Muise came in to say hello. She had a friend, Laura, with her that we hadn’t met before. Everyone was on Atkins. Yvette and Laura said goodnight and our attention turned to the dinner Yvonne had ready.
Last fall Steven, Al and two other men went moose hunting on Newfoundland. Tonight we were having some of the bounty from their hunt, moose with broccoli. In addition we had lobster in a butter sauce served over spinach. Only outdoorsmen can put such a feast on the table and a feast it was.
Heavenly shades of night were falling, it was twilight time out of the cool air we could feel the camp stove beckoning. We left the warm confines of the 5th wheel and went outside with our libations and gathered round the stove where Steven was starting a fire. With the fire roaring, chasing the evening chill, Onie and I had donned jackets; Al went to his camper and came back with his guitar.
Al is a little older than I am but he still has a wonderful voice which blended ever so nicely with the smooth strumming of his guitar. Soon Steven fetched his guitar and we sang along as they played their duet. June got home after a while and joined the pickin’ and grinnin’.
Our singing and playing continued on until the bewitching hour when quiet time descends on the camp. Steven and I put away the chairs and visited for a bit about Canadian politics. With the fire on the wane and the cold setting in we bade each other goodnight.
At the coach Onie was already in bed. I sat down to make a few notes and reminisce on the events of the day. About 3 I toddled off to bed.
June 10, 2004
FIRST DAY
On our first full day on St Mary’s Bay we were greeted with a little shower when we woke. As we like to do we lay and listened quietly as the rain drummed on the coach. When the shower passed Onie got up to the waiting coffee. While I lingered in bed she drank her coffee and reviewed the ramblings from last week. A while later I joined her with a cup of tea and we sat and gazed out of the sparkling waters of beautiful St Mary’s Bay and the few whitecaps that danced on it’s surface. Across the way the rise and fall of the early morning gray of Digby Neck provided a backdrop to the dark blue and white of the salt water.
As the sun rose on it’s daily track Onie started breakfast while I began writing. It had been a while, not since Michigan, since I had spent quality time with the laptop. Now I pecked away furiously as Onie prepared the lobster and eggs that would break our fast.
Filled and renewed by the meal I sat back down to write some more. With the latest news coming to us via satellite I continued to write and Onie worked on the coach. The travel and days of seminars had taken their toll on the organization of the coach and she was busily setting it right. My pecking went right on through her labors and even through her long shower.
When we boondock on the road we are limited to showers that use two or three gallons of water. Now we had lots of water and no holding tank concerns. As I pecked away I could hear the splish splash as Onie took her long shower. When she showed up scrubbed clean and looking like a doll I quit the computer and took my turn in the steaming water. The temperature in the coach was 63 and clouds of steam rolled out of the top of the shower stall as I let the hot water roll down my cold skin. I was loath to end such an experience but the yard waited.
Here we mow our own yard. The park provides the mower and gas but each seasonal camper is responsible for his own yard. Our yard hadn’t been cut since last fall. The grass was tall and moist and the Honda rotary push mower struggled to do the job. Every few feet I stopped the motor and pulled the wet clippings from the discharge port. When this little chore was completed I went back to cleaning the front of the coach. Last evening I had stopped after doing enough to put the sun screens in place.
Onie had gone to the gym with Yvonne.
When the front of the coach was bugless I tackled setting up our yard. When Onie got back from the gym we got out our big rug and door mat. We set our picnic table in place and put the tablecloth on it. Then our new grill and cooler came out of the basement along with a table.
The day was growing into late afternoon and the temperature had reached its zenith and was dropping so we sought warmth in the coach where Onie continued cleaning and I resumed writing.
The outside temperature was 55 when we started dinner at eight. The sun was now finishing its day’s trek and settling over Digby Neck to our west. By the time we had finished our meal at 8:30 the temperature had already fallen to fifty two.
Wearing jackets we headed out to the campfire at Steven’s and Yvonne’s. As the evening wore on the guitars came out and the sounds of picking and singing filled the air until eleven. With the thermometer sitting on 49 and considering the fact that most folks had to work on the morrow we said our goodnights and went to the coach.
June 11, 2004
A DAY AT BELLE BAIE
It is still springtime here. While some trees are in full leaf others are just starting to bud out. It will be warmer than the 45 it was this morning at 7:30 before their leaves are full.
Last night after the campfire but before we were in the coach Nook, (Henry) brought us two Haddock fillets that were left over from his and Nora’s dinner. This morning those fillets found their way into the skillet with some butter and that was followed by eggs. Our great breakfast was made.
Onie completed her work on last week’s report getting it ready to post to the website. While Onie was at the laptop I read a copy of National Review. I had brought several copies with me and hoped to get caught up before our first mail packet arrived bringing a new copy.
A little play was over due so we took turns playing Spider Solitaire. While we were thus occupied, and still in our night clothes, we were paid a visit by June, our neighbor across the street. She plays the guitar and sings and is interested is getting together with Onie and exchanging music. She also talked about organizing a Sunday evening gospel singing at the rec hall. We thought that was a great idea and said we would like to participate. She then told us about a music program the kids at her church, St. Joseph’s Catholic Church, are putting on this Sunday. It is a fund raiser for them to pay their way to Germany and a love offering will be taken. We agreed to go and will probably ride with her and Alphonse.
Noon brought us a temperature of 52.3 with winds whipping out of the south through clear blue skies. By three o‘clock the temperature had climbed to 55 but that was as high as it got before it began dropping. This time of the year the wind is a constant blowing about twenty miles per hour but on some days getting up to thirty. The locals consider it “breezy” since winter winds, October through March, are thirty to fifty miles per hour.
My fingers danced, well at least walked, over the laptop for a while longer and then we went out to wash the Subaru.
It was dirty when we left Lake Road two weeks ago. After being towed over twenty seven hundred miles through some rain and dirt it was filthy. An hour or so made a big improvement in it. While it was a work in progress Yvonne came by and helped.
With a clean ride Onie headed off to the gym. She was gone for a good long time as she was being measured and weighed as well as doing her workout. The gym, about five miles away, is high tech having computers that track each participant and their time spent on the machines each time they come in. There is no fudging saying one was there working out but the results didn’t come for at the end of a month when one is re-measured and re-weighed the computer will tell just how many days and how long one worked out.
I sat at the computer, still in a catch up mode.
When Onie returned she got the computer and was ready to post last week. I dropped her off at the office, where the phone line is, as I drove to the hardware store to pickup supplies to fix a chair and some cloth wire to replace that on the screen door.
Back at the house Onie and I got the chair repaired before bundling up for a walk on the beach. Walking sticks in hand we sat out. The beach is but a hundred yards from the coach but there are large stones to navigate before reaching the rock strewn beach. We walked north following the waters edge at times and other times climbing the grass covered dune where we looked at the flotsam and jetsam cast there by last winter’s storms. Small bits of red, pink, yellow, blue and natural colored rope lay among the grass along with pieces of plastic, wood from boats and pieces of trees, large and small. Brown drying seaweed provided a contrast to the green and tucked safely in the taller grasses were small delicate flowers, mostly lavender, providing a beautiful accent to the scene. Tracks of other walkers, including birds and dogs showed where others had preceded us but they were being erased quickly by the wind driven sand that filled the depressions.
On one of our treks to the waters edge we were surprised to find deer tracks. It almost looked as though they went into the water. A later conversation revealed that ticks are a problem in the inland areas and deer will travel a long way to get to the beach where they do wade into the briny, immersing themselves, to drive off the ticks, which it does.
We had gone a good distance and were but dots on the dunes to the folks still in camp but decided to walk a bit further, to the next point. Along the way we took some pictures. Once the point had been reached we climbed over the dune, taking a different route back. We were missing the empty crab shells along with the opened mussel shells and their pretty multicolored interiors but we were finding new things and somewhat sheltered from the wind we were facing.
An hour after leaving we were back in the quiet warmth of he coach. The water in the bay still splashed on the shore with the incoming tide but we couldn’t hear it.
With dinner, salad, asparagus and a pound of fresh scallops, on the table we enjoyed sating our appetites while watching the sun set over the bay and the Neck. Jell-o punctuated the setting sun as it dropped out of sight.
We had had a full day and were both tired. Going to the campfire in the falling temperature didn’t seem like it would be much fun but we knew there would be old and new friends there so we go bundled up again and joined the group there.
We were right, to go. Familiar faces were waiting for us. Many had names we couldn’t remember but they each, man and woman, greeted us with warm smiles and hugs. Each said how glad they were we had returned and asked how things were in Texas. Two of the couples are planning trips to Texas and want to get information from us. One couple plans to winter there. After all the hugging we felt much better and were indeed glad we had made the effort to go. Joan, Steven’s sister who looks a lot like our daughter Dawn and is almost her identical age, spent a lot of time visiting with us before turning her attention to singing and playing. Several guitars had been brought out and the tunes of Hank, Merle, Patsy, George and many others filled the air. Many non musicians, myself included, joined in the singing so that the sound of the wind vanished behind the mingled voices.
While all this was going on ten pounds of mussels were steamed and immediately devoured by the crowd that was pushing thirty in number. From time to time someone would throw another log on the fire and its light and warmth added to the festive mood. Before we knew it the three hours ‘til midnight had passed and it was time for “so longs”. Our friends here love the colloquialisms we have brought from Texas and “so long” is just one of many they say they will adopt. We in turn may adopt some of theirs, eh?
The coach porch light helped us in the front door.
Inside we quickly got ready for bed, crawled in between the cover and turned out the lights. A day at Belle Baie was over.
June 12, 2004
CLOSING
The week was closing as our day opened at 8 with the outside temp hanging at 50 degrees.
Onie dressed and headed off to the gym.
I sat down to another slow morning pecking at the keyboard, listening to the bluegrass station on TV, sipping my tea and watching the waves out the window. The bay was flat as the morning sun hadn’t yet heated the air enough to cause the spring winds to be active but I knew a little time would change that.
Somewhere between reverie and pecking Onie returned and soon the Marlin was filled with the sounds and smells of breakfast cooking, thick bacon and fresh eggs. By ten o’clock we were seated at our dinette watching the wind toss the tree limbs, outside our window, back and forth while we made short order of Onie’s cooking.
With me back with the laptop in place Onie picked up her Yamaha and sat down to play and sing.
Outside the sights and sounds of Saturday were all around us. Most of the campers had been occupied last night and this morning the owners were out enjoying the sun. Lawn mowers were heard and seen along with the weed eater. Some of the folks were painting their wind breaks or working on decks. Children were running, laughing, playing tag, fishing and swimming in the lagoon. Another work and school week had been completed and all present were making the most of the free time. When the work was completed the ladies gathered in groups to sun and talk. Many of the men walked their dogs on the beach or along the sand dune.
While the world outside swirled around us Onie played & sang while I pecked. Writing occupied me until noon. Onie took a cup of coffee and went outside to enjoy the sunshine and slack wind.
Later I got a long overdue haircut and trimmed my beard. It seems everyone here, on first seeing me again, comments on the disappearance of the long beard and matching hair. Then they make the real telling remark, the one that will probably keep the beard and hair short. They tell me I look so much younger. I personally think it is the weight loss but who am I to argue with my elders?
The only way to rid myself of the hair clinging to my back and neck was to bathe.
That is a real chore for little boys.
Lunch was on the table and then reading occupied us for a while.
Anon Onie repaired to the bedroom for a nap.
Back at the computer work continued on getting current. When the will for that chore left I wrote some e-mail to be sent later then set off for the drug store in Saulnierville, pronounced Saunyville, to buy some phone cards.
On the way out of camp I met our scallop diving friend, Daniel, and stopped to visit with him. He and his son had been clamming and had filled their bucket. Their pant knees were still wet from where they had knelt in the sand, to dig. He told me about the last lobster season and how their boat had taken over 3300 pounds on the first day. His share is twenty percent and that day he worked for executive pay. His son who stood patiently while we visited had grown about a foot.
With the phone cards in hand and back at the coach I took a short nap before Daniel came by to visit and woke me. He was actually looking for his son who had gone to play with some buddies but seeing our coach he stopped to visit.
When the visit was over Onie rose to prepare dinner. The menu was a repeat of last night but no complaints were heard.
When the last scallop had been eaten a knock was heard on the door. It was Ann LeBlanc. A group was gathering at their camper and they wanted Onie to come, bring her guitar and music and play. We cleaned the table of the dirty dishes, gathered up the required items and left the coach.
At Dan & Ann’s the campfire was blazing in an old washing machine tub. The holes in the side provided perfect ventilation and let one see the accumulated coals in the bottom. Overall it was a neat sight. The music stopped long enough for Onie to get set up and then the enlarged group began playing and singing again. I sat behind Onie and sang.
Dan LeBlanc, Joan LeBlanc, and Sylvia
The group playing now was Onie, Dan LeBlanc, his sister Joan and his brother Steven, all on the guitar. Joan’s boyfriend, Harlan, and Steven’s wife, Ann sang along as did Ann LeBlanc and I. Another couple drifted by and stopped in for the music and visiting as did Yvonne’s mom, Audrey. Tunes ranged from bluegrass to country to gospel. Each picker took a turn selecting songs and singing lead. Onie and Joan both received accolades for their playing and singing.
Dan had tried an Eagles number, Hotel California, but couldn’t make it work and no one else could follow his attempts. He was playing by ear without the aid of written cords and was sure he could master the tune if he could hear it. He and his wife, brother and his wife and Onie and I retired to the Marlin to listen to the tune on a CD. During the listening we looked at some slide shows on the laptop of previous travels Onie and I had made. Pictures of the rattlesnake roundup brought sounds of revulsion from the ladies.
Over the sounds of the CD we could hear karaoke coming from Steven Boudreau’s site. Guitars were stored and the group headed off to spend the last hour before quiet time with the larger group. We joined in and sang until the magic hour when the music died.
It seemed too early to call it a night so Yvonne invited us in for a midnight snack. In the warmth of the camper we visited with her, Steven and another couple until yawns began to be more frequent that talk. On mutual agreement we decided to turn in.
At the coach Onie fixed our Jell-o while I made a few notes.
Onie was quick to the bed. I ate my Jell-o and sat with the laptop until about two o’clock.